Collisions
by Sand Torrent
Summary: Takes place after fights with Harkon, Alduin, and Miraak and after War of the Ring. Those who set out for Aman were shipwrecked on the shores of Skyrim. When the paths of the Dragonborn and the heroes of Middle-Earth cross, what chaos ensues? A dark shadow is rising, and it is up to them to stop it.
1. Stranded

**Hello wonderful people of Earth! I like cheese... and crossovers! So, you are going to get an amazing crossover between two of the greatest fantasy series in the world: The Elder Scrolls and The Lord of the Rings! Enjoy!**

**Note: The Dwemer are not dead in my story, just to keep things interesting.**

**Another note: The "gang" who left for the Undying Lands encountered a storm that prevented them from reaching Aman, so the story deviates from the original a bit. They also left for Aman only two months after the the War of the Ring.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own any of these great series.**

* * *

_Winterhold_

The old wizard woke, his eyes immediately falling upon the crowd of people amassed in front of him. On the wreckage of the ship he assumed a kneeling position, and looked around for his staff of power. It had fallen from the ship, and a soldier in iron armor was inspecting it suspiciously. Gandalf opened his hand, and the staff flew into his palm. The soldier stumbled in surprise, eyes widening.

Where was he?

Then he remembered - he and several others had set sail for Valinor, the isle of Gods. Mithrandir had lived in Valinor, and this was certainly not it. He turned and saw the others, all as confused as him, sitting and rubbing their heads. The Elvish Lord known as Elrond then rose and helped Gandalf up as well.

"Either the wonders of the Undying Lands are all intricately woven lies, or we have not reached our destination," he told Gandalf.

The wizard stepped off of the ship, looking around at the people. "Where are we?" he demanded.

Nobody answered; they were still in awe or shock - or both. Then, a soldier approached him. "You are in the province of Winterhold, sire. Your ship caused quite a commotion when it crashed on the shores of the Sea of Ghosts."

"The Sea of Ghosts?" a voice from the ship inquired. Elrond and Gandalf turned to see Frodo, Bilbo, and Galadriel standing behind them. Galadriel had spoken, her eyes sweeping over her surroundings. "I have not heard of such a sea."

The soldiers looked at the Lady of Lothlórien in awe, her captivating beauty capturing their hearts. "Indeed, lady," one of them replied.

Bilbo rubbed his head, frowning. "I remember a storm... a hurricane..."

Frodo nodded and went to stand by Gandalf. "Gandalf, what do we do now? Our ship is in ruins, and we have no way of knowing how far we are from the Undying Lands."

Gandalf raised a hand. "Patience, Frodo. Let us see what the residents of this... province can do for us. Perhaps the old tales are true."

A questioning look came over Frodo's face.

Lord Elrond spoke. "Who do you believe can help us in our plight?" he asked the soldiers.

"The College might be of some assistance, sire," one of them responded.

"College?" Galadriel asked.

"Yes, m'lady. The mage's college, up on yonder cliff." The soldier pointed to a large building that was precariously perched upon a rocky cliff. A blue torrent of magical energy was emanating from it, flowing up towards the evening sky.

Gandalf nodded and looked at the others. "Elrond, it would be wise not to make a crowd and draw attention. You and I shall go to this... College."

"Then we shall find a place to stay for the night," Galadriel replied immediately.

"Very well," Elrond said. "Let us see what this College has to offer."

* * *

The College was a grand place, with looming towers, elegant arches, and beautiful pillars. A fountain of magical energy was in the middle, a statue of a wizard behind it. Elves and humans alike milled about, reading thick books or simply socializing. Some had catlike features of reptilian qualities, both of which surprised Elrond and Gandalf.

A dark-skinned elf with a staff greeted them, and walked up to them. "You don't seem to be my students. Is there anything you need?"

Gandalf smiled warmly and shook the elf's hand. "Tis' a long story."

The dark elf spread his arms. "I don't seem to have anything extraordinary planned for today, so I don't think that time will be a problem. Savos Aren, Arch-Mage. At your service."

Elrond shook the elf's hand as well. "Charmed. Is there a place where we can speak of our problem without disturbance?"

Savos Aren looked around. "The courtyard is fairly empty now. Why don't you tell me of your predicament?"

Elrond relayed the facts to the dark elf, including the voyage and the storm that had brought them to Winterhold. Savos Aren's eyes widened. "The Undying Lands? I'm afraid that I have not heard of such a place."

The Arch-Mage sighed. "And... you claim to hail from a region known as Middle-Earth..."

"It is true," Gandalf said.

"Your description of this Middle-Earth resembles what we know of Atmora, where Tiber Septim is speculated to have been born."

"Tiber Septim?" Elrond asked skeptically.

"Indeed," Savos Aren said. "The man who led the armies of Man against Elvenkind, and apparently ascended to godhood."

Gandalf and Elrond exchanged looks. "Did he have another name, perhaps?" Gandalf asked.

"Talos," Aren replied. "His name when was apothesized became Talos."

"Interesting. I see many similarities between this 'Talos' of yours and an ancient hero known as Tuor. He was rumored to have sailed to the Enchanted Isles, but perhaps he came here instead," Gandalf said.

"It would explain the inconsistencies pertaining to his origins," Aren said. He then bowed his head. "I apologize for my inability to assist you further."

"It is of no matter," Elrond replied. "We thank you for your attempts."

He and Gandalf then turned to leave the College, their cloaks billowing out behind them.


	2. A New Dawn

_Solitude_

* * *

The Redguard known as Arion Bluetorch strolled along the winding road, his eyes taking in everything around him. The defeat of Miraak had come at a great cost; lives taken, and souls corrupted by the First Dragonborn. It was a relief to have turned away from Hermaeus Mora's clutches and back into the mortal realm. The Last Dragonborn then bumped into a man in a flowing black robe, who was carrying a staff.

"Sorry," he said sheepishly.

The man looked at him with cold, calculating eyes. He also sported a smooth beard and long hair. "Pray, keep your eyes on the road, child." The man then briskly walked away. Arion raised an eyebrow. Not the nicest of people, that man. The sixteen year old hero kept walking, his gaze sweeping over the stone towers and market stalls that lined the streets. The city of Solitude was the shining capital of Skyrim, whose economy and wealth were built upon the profitable trade along the extensive river channels in Skyrim. It was easy to see the prosperity of the city, with its rich citizens in eloquent robes and proud soldiers who protected it from harm.

Arion walked into a bar, his appetite growing to unbearable levels. He was completely famished; some bread and wine would do him good. He ordered some ale and a loaf of freshly baked bread, and ate to his heart's consent. He then saw _him._ The robed man. He was sitting at a table with another person, whose face was shrouded by a hood. They were talking to each other in hushed whispers, and Arion could only make out some of the words.

"A boy-"

"Impossible-"

"Ringwraiths-"

"Istari-"

"Unacceptable-"

As the discussion grew more heated, the men stood up and went through a wooden door. Arion left his food and followed them. He pressed his ear to the door, listening for any voices.

"You must not let them know that you are still alive. They believe you banished."

"I know that, but we must take action. If they are truly here, then we must kill them while we have the chance... while they are in Winterhold."

Arion's eyes widened.

"When?"

"Immediately. Send the forces that are hidden in Eastmarch."

"Very well. We should leave now, before-"

Arion got the hint. He dove to the side as the door opened, and the two men walked out. They hurried out of the bar, and Arion got to his feet. "Some discussion," he murmured.

One thing was clear. There were people in danger at Winterhold. The Last Dragonborn ran out of the bar, eyes narrowed.

* * *

_The Long Lake_

Smaug's bones lay in the Long Lake, feared by all who saw them. They were rotting in the lake's waters, and the people of Lake Town long awaited the day when they would disappear. Little did they know that Smaug would soon return to his true master, the king of all dragons.

Alduin hovered above the lake, and opened his maw. A silvery light was blasted into the lake, and the World-Eater waited for the effect.

It did not take long. Smaug's bones rejoined, and golden flesh formed on them. Smaug the Magnificent had risen once again.

Alduin took to the skies, his servant behind him.

The residents of small villages later reported that they had seen two dragons soar Westward.

* * *

_Minas Tirith_

"With all due respect, my king, we should assess this threat immediately! Dragons flying over villages, causing mass panic? Orcs attacking the borders of Rohan? This is much more important than some... census!"

Aragorn sighed. "We cannot simply act of our own free will, Lord Borkas. Let us take the time to... assess the situation first."

Borkas threw his hands in the air. "My lord, there is no situation to assess! There is something at work, and it is our duty to end it!"

Aragorn rose from his throne. "You may send three thousand soldiers to protect Rohan. There will be no more discussion of this."

Borkas turned away, a grin forming upon his bearded face. "Do not fear, my king... I will bring you triumph..."

* * *

_Mirkwood_

Legolas meandered through the dense forest of Mirkwood, his thoughts upon those who had sailed Westward. Of all, he missed Mithrandir the most. The old wizard had never failed to give him comfort and counsel, and most of all: courage. The Elf then heard a crackling sound behind him, and he whipped around. A woman with a veil over her head stood there, silent and unmoving.

She then spoke: "Your friends are in danger, Elf. You must save them."

Legolas frowned. "I- I don't understand."

"Those who have sailed to the West, Legolas. You must save them."

The Wood Elf's eyes widened. "Frodo and Mithrandir?"

The woman nodded quietly. "Save them, Legolas." She then started to fade away.

"Wait!" Legolas shouted. "Who are you?"

A smile formed upon the woman's lips. "You may call me Kyne."

* * *

_Winterhold_

"Orcs? You harbor orcs?" Frodo was bewildered and somewhat frightened. The inn where the group was staying had orcs!

The innkeeper sighed. "I knew that bigotry wasn't uncommon, but I think that you're taking it a bit too far. Say, you're a short one, aren't you?"

Frodo walked away, miffed. A nearby orc cast a nasty glare at him. "We're not as barbaric as you think we are, Outlander. Maybe wherever you come from, we are... but here in Tamriel, honor is of utmost importance to us orcs."

Frodo looked down. "I- I'm sorry, sir. It just takes some time to get used to."

The orc grunted and went back to his food.

Frodo went to a table on the other side of the room as to distance himself from the orc, earning him another nasty glare. As he turned away, he found himself face-to-face with a bearded man.

"Gandalf!" Frodo exclaimed. "Pray, do not do that again! You scared me half-witless!"

Gandalf grabbed Frodo's arm. "There are dark forces arriving from the South. Tell the others."

Frodo's eyes widened, and he dashed off to alert Bilbo.

* * *

_Bromjunaar (Labyrinthian)_

Alduin stood upon the stones of Labyrinthian, his red eyes sweeping the premises of his great city. Draugr and Dragons alike bowed before him, and his thunderous, metallic voice pierced the air.

_"We will cleanse Arda of the human scum! We shall wipe out their savage ways! Govey Bruniik!"_

Draugr raised their spears, snarling in agreement. Dragons blew white-hot flames into the night sky.

_"First... I will need to seek conference with those whom they call the Outlanders. I will want to learn more of their home. This self-proclaimed Dark Lord had better seal his end of our agreement."_

The Dragon God was then consumed by flame, his reptilian body in flames. When they dissipated, a man with a black beard and long black hair stood in his place. The man was dressed in purple robes and gold jewels.

_"A new dawn comes," _Alduin proclaimed.


	3. Chapter 3

**Hi, so sorry for not posting another chapter. I am just here to say that I have NOT abandoned the story, a new chapter is coming this week.**

**thanks.**


	4. The Dragonborn Comes

Hello! I appreciate the constructive criticism. I was rushed, as I knew that a new chapter wouldn't be up for a while, so sorryyyyyyyyy... Anyways, hope this one is better!

The last Tamrielic Dwarf is going to be in the next chapter, not this one.

* * *

Winterhold Hold

It was an odd sight indeed; the crew from Middle-Earth sat around a crude campfire, their cloaks wrapped tightly around them. The wizard had missed them by minutes, unbeknownst to them.

Elrond sat at the foot of a lonely tree, his cloak coated with snow. "My word, Mithrandir! I have not seen so much snow in all my years!"

Gandalf laughed heartily. "Have you ventured into the caves of the Misty Mountains, old friend?"

"Of course I have. But there is not nearly as much snow there as there is here."

Gandalf's eyes then narrowed. "Stay back!"

He raised his staff, flames flickering on its tip. "Someone is trailing us, friends." Gandalf drew Glamdring and raised it. "I sense a looming shadow encompassing these woods. Let us move quickly, understood?"

Bilbo frowned and looked around. "I do not spot anybody, Gandalf. Are you certain...?"

Gandalf nodded silently and gestured towards a clearing. "Let us stay there. Something is not right here." The group went to the clearing and laid down their supplies on the ground again.

Then, a silhouette appeared around the corner. It was tall and frightening... Definitely not human.

Then, a piercing, metallic voice pierced the air. "Krosis!"

A grotesque cloaked figure lunged out of nowhere at the group, and Elrond immediately met the entity in battle. Drawing his sword, he met the Dragon Priest's staff with extreme skill. The two combatants exchanged several blows, but Krosis spun his staff with prodigious skill, forcing the Elf-Lord to step backwards.

The Dragon Priest then conjured a column of flame, which Gandalf countered with a protective charm that washed over the group like water.

"We must retreat!" Gandalf proclaimed. He brandished his sword while covering the others.

The group took off running.

* * *

It was a good ten minutes before the group stopped fleeing from the dreaded Dragon Priest.

Elrond turned and raised his sword defensively. "The foul creature seems to have lost our trail. Let us not tarry, should it locate us again." The group mumbled in agreement and kept going.

Suddenly, a figure on a horse came into view. Gandalf raised his staff, ready to curse the horse rider.

The hooded rider dismounted and raised his hands in surrender. "I come in peace, Outlanders. My name is Arion Bluetorch, of Hammerfell."

Gandalf did not lower his staff. "State your purpose."

Arion stepped forward. "I wish to assist you. A wizard intends to kill you."

Galadriel stepped forward, facing down the Dragonborn. "Elaborate, adventurer. Which wizard?"

Arion shrugged. "Some old man, with a staff."

The group sighed. This man did not know how to be specific!

"Take off your hood," Elrond said politely.

Arion did so, revealing his scarred dark face with purple war paint. "They call me the Dragonborn. I may be youthful, but I can help you. I've been having dreams about you, and... I fear that they may be coming real."


End file.
